The Importance of Small Rituals
Last year, I finally fulfilled my lifelong dream of visiting Japan. I won’t go into how magical the trip was, though it truly was, but I will share one thing that stayed with me: matcha.
Not the sweetened, over-complicated lattes that are everywhere, but real matcha. The kind you prepare yourself in five or ten quiet minutes, with a bamboo whisk and a chawan, a simple bowl traditionally used to prepare matcha, and a moment of attention. That small act became an anchor for me, a ritual that grounded me in the middle of rushing days.
The power of ritual
There’s something deeply human about these small practices. They don’t require much skill or effort, but they ask for your presence. Preparing matcha, brewing a careful pour-over, or even making your bed each morning are the kinds of rituals that connect you with the tangible world.
Admiral William H. McRaven, in Make Your Bed, emphasizes how this single action at the start of the day sets the tone for everything that follows. Making your bed doesn’t solve your problems, but it gives you a first win. No matter how chaotic the rest of the day gets, you return to a small, completed task that tells you: you’ve already done something right.
That’s the hidden strength of rituals. They are less about the act itself and more about what they symbolize. A clean bed is order in the middle of disorder. A cup of matcha is calm in the middle of noise.
Little anchors in the day
We often underestimate the value of five minutes spent doing something with care. But string enough of these rituals together and your day becomes full of them, moments of pause, of presence, of reset.
They can be as simple as grinding fresh coffee beans, slowly journaling in the evening, or folding your blanket before sleep. They’re not productivity hacks, but mental breathers. Tiny victories that keep you sane when deadlines pile up and the world pushes for speed.
A foundation to return to
What matters is not what the ritual is but that it’s yours. For me, it’s preparing matcha. Sometimes it’s a Chemex, sometimes it’s journaling before bed. For you, it might be walking outside at dawn, shaving with care, or writing a single page every morning.
On the worst of days, these rituals give you something solid to hold onto. They become a quiet foundation: at least the bed was made, at least the coffee was savored, at least the journal has a new page.
And often, that’s enough.
Because in the end, it’s the smallest rituals that quietly shape the largest parts of who we are.
See You Soon!
